Adam and I were sitting on the beach watching Bentley run around while Azalea and Holden walked up beside us with their newborn baby in her arms.
“How’s it going? You look exhausted,” I said, concerned, threading my voice as I gently took baby Paisley from Azalea, hoping to offer her even the briefest moment of relief.
“She’s not sleeping much,” Azalea replied, her tired voice trembling just a little with exhaustion, her eyes rimmed with fatigue but full of fierce love.
“They never do at the beginning. Just bear with it for a few months. She’ll settle down,” I said softly, rocking Paisley gently. A pang of empathy twisted in my chest, remembering those endless nights—how the weight of exhaustion pressed not only on the body but on the very heart itself.
“You’re just a natural.” Azalea
